


Find My Way

by perfect_plan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet, Clairvoyance, Ghost steve, M/M, Mentions of Death, Supernatural Elements, happy sad fic, psychic bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_plan/pseuds/perfect_plan
Summary: Bucky Barnes has a very unique gift. When a couple need help with a presence in their home, Bucky is more than happy to help. But the job doesn't go quite as he expects it to.





	Find My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little bit different! Hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> Thank you again for all of the lovely comments. Time is not on my side to answer them but I read and appreciate all of them. Getting comments keeps me writing!

Bucky saw the couple as soon as he walked into the coffee shop. It was obvious from the way they were sitting side by side, their faces drawn in tiredness and worry. He also just _knew_. It was one of his gifts. He walked towards them and offered a warm smile in greeting.

“Mr and Mrs Richmond?” he asked.

They looked up at him and Bucky saw the same thing he always saw when he met with new people in regard to their particular problem: hope and suspicion.

“Yes, that’s us,” Mrs Richmond said and they both stood. “Mr Barnes?”

Bucky shook hands with each of them in turn. “Yes. Nice to meet you.”

“Can I get you a coffee?” Mr Richmond asked.

Bucky held up a hand and sat down opposite them. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You came very highly recommended to us from Natasha Romanov,” Mrs Richmond said. “John almost didn’t agree to this but we trust Natasha.”

Mr Richmond looked sheepish. “Apologies but I just don’t believe in...all of this. But I can’t deny what I’ve seen and what Linda has experienced.”

“It’s alright,” Bucky said. “It’s a strange line of work that I’m in. Why don’t you just tell me everything from the beginning and we’ll go from there?”

They both relaxed a little and Mr Richmond looked at his wife and nodded.

“Well” Mrs Richmond began, “we moved into the apartment at the end of July and for the first month or so everything was fine. John works in Manhattan and I work from home so I was the one who started to...notice things.” She fiddled with her scarf, almost out of embarrassment.

Bucky gave her an encouraging nod. “What kind of things?”

“The room suddenly getting very cold, the feeling that someone was behind me. Objects moving to different places.”

“All over the apartment?” Bucky asked.

“Almost always in the kitchen and living room. My desk is in the living room so most of the...activity has been there. I’ve never experienced anything in any of the other rooms.” She chewed on her lip. “I started to feel uncomfortable all the time. Like I wasn’t welcome in my own home. And I saw...someone in the kitchen.”

“I saw it too,” Mr Richmond said. “A figure leaning over the table. And we’ve heard singing.”

“Anything you recognise?”

Mr Richmond shook his head. “No. I thought something was familiar but it stopped before I could really listen.”

“Have either of you been hurt or made any physical contact in any way?”

Mrs Richmond nodded furiously. “Yes. This only started to happen a couple of weeks ago. I would be in the kitchen or the living room and it was like...when you’re on the subway and it’s busy and someone knocks you in the shoulder? Like they’re walking by in a hurry. That’s when we decided to look for help. In case it gets worse.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. “Have either of you ever experienced anything like this before? Any odd occurrences growing up that seem similar to this?”

“No, never,” Mrs Richmond said. “We’re quite certain it’s the apartment.”

“It does sound that way. I’ve dealt with situations like this before,” Bucky said.

“Can it be fixed?” Mr Richmond said.

“Possibly,” Bucky said. “I’ve got a good track record of clearing homes but each situation is different so I don’t want to tell you I can definitely solve your problem. But I’ll do my best.”

“What will you need to do?” Mrs Richmond said.

“I’ll need to visit your apartment without you so I can gauge clearly what kind of presence might be there.” Mr Richmond flinched at Bucky’s use of the word _presence_. “I like to go in not knowing anything about the location or its history and just feel things. That’s the best way I can describe my ability. After that, it’s however I can communicate with whatever is there and see what it wants.”

Mrs Richmond paled. “What it wants?”

Bucky smiled. “I’m sorry, that sounded very sinister. In most of these situations, it’s a case of the...” he struggled to find a word that wouldn’t terrify the Richmonds.

“Ghost?” Mr Richmond said flatly.

“Yeah, let’s go with that. Most of the time, these...ghosts...are just stuck and need a little help moving on. That’s essentially what I do.”

Mr Richmond sighed. “So there’s a chance this could get worse if we don’t anything?”

Bucky shrugged. “I can’t be certain but if the presence has started to make actually physical contact then maybe.”

Mrs Richmond took her husband’s hand. “Please, John.”

He patted his wife’s hand. “If it had been anyone other than Natasha giving us your name, I’d have run for the hills but I won’t lie; she scares the dickens out of me.”

Bucky tried to stifle his grin. Natasha was a very successful lawyer on her way to becoming a judge. She had known Bucky since they were twelve and often gave his name to people she thought might need his help, not just in clearing houses. “She can have that effect.”

“We can’t stay there any more, not with things getting worse,” Mrs Richmond said and Bucky felt bad for her. She was obviously truly terrified.

He reached over the table and took her hand. “I’ll do what I can. I promise.” She seemed to ease a little at his touch. He had they way with people.

“We’re heading to New England for a few weeks to visit family,” Mr Richmond said. “Natasha said that might be enough time.”

“It could be. If you’re not there there’s a better chance I can make contact. Obviously, I’ll need access to your apartment. I usually hand over my driver’s license and passport to the client as a fail-safe. Just in case you don’t trust me.”

Mr Richmond shook his head. “I doubt Natasha would want to be involved in something that could jeopardize her career. That isn’t necessary. Forgive me for asking, but you do want to charge us for this?”

“I only charge for the time I use that cuts into my freelance working hours, which as you need urgent help, would be from whenever you’d like me to start. If there are travel expenses too. I keep detailed logs of everything that happens and make a daily report to you however is most convenient.”

Mrs Richmond nodded. “That seems fair. Do you record any of the...work you do? With a camera or anything?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. It may sound silly, but I try as best I can to respect the...ghosts. A lot of the time they’re confused and upset and it isn’t fair to make a spectacle of things.”

Mrs Richmond looked oddly touched. “Alright. I suppose we leave this in your hands now.”

They all stood and Bucky handed Mr Richmond a piece of paper with his details on it. “Take some time to think it over. I won’t be offended if you don’t want my help. Believe me, I can never quite fully get my head around what I can do but I want to help if I can. You _and_ the presence in your home.”

Mr Richmond’s face softened and he shook Bucky’s hand. “We won’t have to think long, Mr Barnes. We’re just grateful that someone doesn’t think we’re totally out of our minds.”

Bucky smiled again and put a hand on Mrs Richmond’s shoulder. “Things will get better. Don’t worry.”

*

Two days later, Bucky was making his way up the communal stairs of a very nice brownstone in Brooklyn. The Richmond’s apartment was on the top floor. They had handed Bucky their keys outside, their car loaded for their trip and looked a little less haggard than when he met them in the coffee shop.

“Please help yourself to any food and drink and the guest bedroom is made up for you if you plan to stay. It’s the room next to the bathroom,” Mr Richmond said. “I hope it’s okay but we asked Natasha if it was alright to keep her in the loop too.”

“That’s fine,” Bucky said. “I won’t go into any detail with her if she calls me but I’m happy for you to tell her whatever you like.”

“Thank you, Mr Barnes,” Mrs Richmond had said. “Good luck.”

Now, as Bucky stood outside the front door, he certainly already felt something. He gave a little sigh of relief; it wasn’t a bad presence, at least not from what he could sense already. Something worse would have had his skin tingling in that familiar prickly way and the taste of vinegar at the back of his throat. He unlocked the door and stepped into the short hallway, putting his bag on the floor. He stood for a moment, getting used to the sensation of tuning into both worlds.

Growing up, he had often called his ability his “radio.” It was like he could just dial into that plain of existence that was inaccessible to most people. It had been an interesting ability to grow up with; he soon learned not to tell people about it outright and choose his moments to speak to people if they had a message from someone. His mom and Becca and been amazingly understanding and didn’t doubt his gift and Bucky couldn’t have been more grateful; childhood would have been very lonely for him otherwise. His father had been a different matter. For years he had been convinced that Bucky was lying for attention and it had caused a huge rift between them. It was only when he was sixteen that he finally realized that his father did believe him but was scared of his talent. Bucky had learnt how to cope with it and use it rather than push it away. There were so many hurt people in the world, living and dead, and he just wanted to help.

He headed towards the bedrooms and bathrooms first. The Richmonds had told him that the activity was mainly centered in the living room and kitchen but he wanted to get a feel for the apartment as a whole. There was definitely something here, that was for sure.

The signal was weak in the master and guest bedroom, the en-suite bathroom and the guest bathroom. As he started toward the living room and kitchen, it may as well have been static suddenly switching to Metallica at full-blast. Whoever was here was _strong_. Perhaps not so much in their ability to effect change in the physical world but there was stubbornness and strength. Bucky slowly ran his hand along the top of the kitchen counters. He could sense a lot of annoyance. Not necessarily malicious, but hurt and confusion. It was cold in here. Not an open window or inclement weather kind of cold but the goose-flesh unsettling kind. He put his hands in his pockets and walked into the living room.

Wow. The presence was grounded here, that was for sure. Bucky’s ears rang slightly and he took a few deep breaths. He could feel whoever it was watching him, could feel their irritation and nettled curiosity. Bucky sat down on the couch.

“Hey there,” he said softly. “I’m just going to sit a while if that’s okay with you.”

The atmosphere in the air changed a little. There was a definite shift and the pressure in Bucky’s head eased a little. He could feel surprise. He didn’t say anything more. Sometimes it was better to just let the presence figure him out a little before bombarding it with questions. He looked around at the Richmond’s home. It was pretty big and tastefully decorated. Besides the obvious paranormal intrusion, it felt like a good place. There was an undercurrent of something beneath that though, again, not necessarily bad, but tethering whatever was here to it. Bucky didn’t push, just accepted the sensations as they came to him.

Time moved slowly as Bucky and the presence existed together. Finally, he could feel it pulling away. He let it go, wanting to make sure that he didn’t anger or scare it any more than he had to. If it had meant harm, it would have done something. Just before the presence faded entirely, Bucky caught a glimpse of something at the edge of his mind, the way he always did before he saw something from the spirit world. It wasn’t clear and was gone before he had a chance to fully see.

Almost as if someone had suddenly turned off a very loud TV, silence enveloped Bucky and he let out a breath.

Wow again. He hadn’t felt anything this strong for a _long_ time. He went to the kitchen and put on some coffee and went to grab his things from the hallway. He was going to keep an overnight bag here but he took out his notebook and pen and settled at the kitchen table to write his log.

*

“It’s male,” Bucky told Mr and Mrs Richmond over the phone that evening. “And very strong. Not in a bad way but he’s not in a great mood, that’s for sure.”

“Okay,” Mr Richmond said. “So there’s definitely something there?”

Bucky rubbed his forehead. He was tired. “Yes. Do you both know anything about the history of the building?”

“Just that it was built in the 1800s. Beyond that, no. It was completely remodelled a few years ago,” Mrs Richmond said.

That made sense; gentrification in older areas caused a lot of upset on the other plain. That was something he could look into.

“What happens now?” Mr Richmond asked.

“Well, I’ll keep going back. I don’t want to upset it any more than it already is so I need to take it slow and establish some trust. It can make everything else a lot easier that way.”

“What if it doesn’t want to go?” Mrs Richmond asked, her voice laced with worry.

Bucky tapped his pen against his notebook. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

*

The next day, Bucky did the same thing: He went back to the Richmond’s apartment and just sat down in the living room. The presence was there but he (Bucky couldn’t say _it_ ) was holding back, his energy levels not as strong as they had been yesterday. Bucky was glad; he could at least not have to concentrate as hard to get beyond all of the negative energy. He made himself some coffee and settled back down with his book. He didn’t say anything for the time being but he could feel the ghost watching him. There was less annoyance today, just curiosity. Bucky could still sense that the ghost didn’t want him here but his anger had simmered down and he wasn’t crowding Bucky’s thoughts as much as he had been the day before.

Bucky got lost in his book for a while until there was a smash from the kitchen that startled him into standing. He put his book down and peered into the other room. A mug that had been on the counter was now in pieces on the floor. Bucky put his hands on his hips. Okay, it looked like the ghost was testing him. Bucky walked over and started to pick up the pieces of the broken mug.

“This isn’t my house so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break anything while I’m here. This’ll eat into my expenses.”

He felt a flash of smugness from the presence.

Bucky finished tidying up and went back to the living room. His book wasn’t where he had left it. He wasn’t going to pander to the ghost by looking for it.

“Good thing I’ve already read that book twice,” Bucky said and made himself comfy on the couch again. He opened his notebook and started to doodle, registering a hint of irritation from the ghost. “I’m staying here tonight so I hope you like to watch Animal Planet.”

Like that, the presence was gone. Bucky knew it would be back, it was just a matter of what he would do when it did.

*

Bucky ordered take-out that evening and true to his word, put on Animal Planet. At around 8pm, the presence was back, watching him from the kitchen. Bucky still couldn’t see him yet and just carried on doing what he was doing. He yawned.

There was a scraping noise and one of the kitchen chairs moved a little.

“Can you make me a cup of coffee while you’re back there?” Bucky called out without looking.

He was rewarded with a sense of indignation.

This time, Bucky turned to the kitchen. “I know that you understand what I am and I just want to help you. The people who live here are very nice and very scared and just want to enjoy the home they’ve bought. If you want to communicate with me, you don’t have to break things or move them around to get my attention.” He spoke softly and was overcome by a wave of sadness. “I understand how you feel. I really do. I can help you if you’ll let me.”

That feeling of sadness lasted a few more seconds and was gone. So was the ghost. Bucky didn’t think he’d be back tonight.

When he woke up in the morning, his book was on the kitchen table.

*

“Hey, Bucky Bear.”

Bucky smiled into his phone. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Oh, I know,” Natasha said. “How’s things?”

Bucky moved his laptop onto the couch. “Not too bad. I’m about to head off to the Richmond’s place.”

“They did tell me. How’s it going?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“They’re nice people. I did some estate law for them.”

“I appreciate the recommendation.”

Natasha laughed. “Only you would thank me for letting more spooky shit into your life.”

“You know it doesn’t bother me,” Bucky said.

“Have you thought any more about that TV offer?”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Not interested. It’s too...gaudy.” He had been approached by a television network about a possible reality show after one of his clearings. No thank you.

“I know I can’t properly understand what you do but you know I’m here to talk if things get a bit heavy?”

He smiled. “I know my BFF has my back. Thanks, Nat. I’d better get going.”

“Love you, BB.” She hung up.

Bucky threw some things into his bag and headed to the subway. He would stay over again at the apartment tonight. The more he was there, the more likely the ghost would try to communicate with him in a way that wasn’t just moving things.

He let himself into the apartment and froze. He was back. Bucky could hear singing coming from the kitchen. He strained to hear but couldn’t make out any words from here. He slowly walked down the hallway and looked into the kitchen. He couldn’t see the ghost but he could just about make out some lyrics in a soft voice, fading in and out and barely even there.

“ _...hide it to myself and never talk about it...shout it when you walked into the room...”_

And then he was gone again. Bucky quickly took out his notebook and scribbled down the words he had heard. He opened Google on his phone and tapped in the lyrics. The song was I Think I Love You by David Cassidy. He found it on YouTube and started to play it. He had definitely heard the song before, just not this version. Was this the song the Richmonds had heard? Was it the ghost’s favorite song? Bucky felt a little sad and it wasn’t just residual energy from the ghost. He had been a person once with songs and books and food that he had liked.

He played the song over again and started to hum along.

*

Bucky awoke with a start into the darkness of the guest bedroom, his mouth completely dry. He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. He sat up and let his eyes adjust, blinking sleepily. The ghost hadn’t been here all evening but Bucky wouldn’t give up yet. He sighed and swung his legs out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He poured himself some water without turning on the lights and went to the living room. He sat down on the couch and listened to the silence. It had to be close to 2am. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch.

Bucky opened his eyes a moment later. He was here.

Bucky turned and there was a figure standing in the kitchen. He wasn’t quite fully formed, just the idea of a shape in Bucky’s mind but he could see enough. The guy was short, that much he could make out in the darkness. He wasn’t angry or annoyed; he just stood and watched Bucky quietly. Bucky blinked a few times. The guy’s aura was so strong it was throwing him for a loop.

“Hi,” Bucky said softly.

He almost leapt for joy when the ghost answered. His voice was quiet, like he was far away but it was a deep voice, deeper than Bucky had expected.

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

There was silence for a moment. “I’ve been better.”

“Would you like to talk?” Bucky asked.

The ghost’s head dipped a little and Bucky caught a glimpse of blond hair. “Not tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky said but by the time he had finished speaking, the ghost was gone again.

*

Having a breakthrough always made Bucky happy and he called the Richmonds in the morning.

“He spoke to me last night. I think I can help.”

There were two audible sighs of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Mrs Richmond said. “What does it want from us?”

Bucky couldn’t quite bring himself to call the ghost “it” any more. “I don’t know yet. I’m hoping he’ll tell me. He was annoyed with me at first but I think he wants my help.”

“Please take your time if you think that will make the situation better,” Mr Richmond said. “We’d really like to know that it’s gone when we come home.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” Bucky said.

He took a shower and then searched in the kitchen for some breakfast foods. He was halfway through a bowl of Captain Crunch when he felt the ghost again. He was standing in the same place in the kitchen. Bucky could see more of him now; he was wearing some kind of checked shirt and flared jeans. He still couldn’t quite visualize his face but he was happy just to see him again.

“Hello,” Bucky said.

“Hello,” the ghost replied, his voice still far away. “Why are there people in my house?”

“They live here now. I don’t think it’s been your house for a long time.”

There was that flash of annoyance and stubbornness again and Bucky’s skin prickled. “It’s _my_ house.”

He didn’t want to upset the ghost again, not when they’d come this far. “My name’s Bucky. What’s yours?”

The ghost shifted and began to fade. Bucky’s heart sank. This was going to be harder than he thought.

But before the ghost disappeared completely, he said, “Steve Rogers.”

*

So Bucky had a couple of things at least: The ghost’s name was Steve, his clothes were a little retro and he had lived here at some point in his life. He could go to the Department Of Health’s Vital Records Office but without a year to go on, he’d be stuck sifting through death certificates for God knew how long. He would have to try and talk to the ghost, Steve, again. He seemed to be appearing to Bucky with some frequency now which meant he didn’t feel threatened. Bucky knew that part of his gift was the aura he gave off that attracted so many spirits to him and he guessed that Steve was no different. Most spirits just wanted a chance to talk.

Bucky had some errands to run that day so he left the apartment after writing in his log and hurried to get them done. He  returned to the Richmond’s apartment in the afternoon with his lunch. He played I Think I Love You again; it was growing on him. He was sitting at the kitchen table and just finishing his burrito when he felt Steve off to the side of him, standing in the living room doorway.  Bucky could make out his face this time; he was handsome in a way, with a nose too long for his face and even from here Bucky could tell that he must have had very blue eyes in life. He was still a shade but it seemed like he was letting himself become more and more visible.

“You like The Partridge Family?” Bucky asked, indicating to his phone which was still playing the music.

Steve nodded. Bucky could feel that he was nervous.

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“But you want to get rid of me,” Steve said. He flickered a little.

Bucky sighed softly. “I don’t want to get rid of you. I want to help you. You’re not happy here.”

“I’m perfectly happy here. It’s my home.”

“You’re stuck here,” Bucky said. “I can feel it. I can help you move on.”

The air pressure suddenly changed and Bucky had to suck in a breath at the onslaught of anger directed at him.

“I’m exactly where I want to be!” Steve shouted. He cried out in frustration and disappeared.

“Shit, no. I’m sorry, Steve!” Bucky called. But he was gone.

*

It was nearly 10pm when Steve appeared again. Bucky looked to his left and Steve was sitting at the other end of the couch, staring straight ahead but not at the TV. Bucky thought it best to let Steve talk first, if he even wanted to. His presence was still so strong, one of the strongest Bucky had ever felt.

“I died here,” Steve said and his voice was sad and faraway. “In this room.” No wonder he tended to stick to the kitchen and why this room felt the most powerful to Bucky.

“How did it happen?” Bucky asked gently.

“I had a bad heart. One day it just stopped. I wasn’t found for two weeks.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve turned to look at him and Bucky could see the moles on his neck, his  strong jawline .  He looked down at his  slightly translucent hands. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Bucky smiled. “That’s my gift.”

Steve smiled back then and it changed his whole face. “It’s been a long time since I talked to anyone.”

“How long?”

“I died in 1971,” Steve said.

“How old were you?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked down at his hands again. “Twenty-five.”

Bucky swallowed down a sob. He was only two years older than Steve had been when he died. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said softly.

Steve glanced up at Bucky and he looked defeated. “You’re going to get rid of me.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” Bucky said, “but you can’t stay here. You need to move on.”

“I don’t know how,” Steve whispered.

“Let me help you,” Bucky said.

Steve stood up and wrapped his arms around himself in a protective hug. “Can I have some time to think?”

Bucky stood too. “Of course. I’ll be here.”

Steve nodded and walked away towards the room, fading away before he got to the kitchen table.

*

Bucky filled out his log but sent a message to the Richmonds telling them that there had been a breakthrough but he wanted another day to do a bit of work before he gave them the full rundown.

The next morning, he went to the Brooklyn Historical Society during their library hours and did a bit of research on the street where the Richmond’s apartment was. Most of the units in each building had been smaller, half the size, until a lot of them were bought up in the 80s and 90s and refitted into luxury apartments. The Richmond’s place must have been a smaller unit, which may explain why Steve’s spirit was to confined to the kitchen and living room. He jotted down some information for the Richmonds in his log book.

Bucky went for lunch at a nearby coffee shop and sat at a table in the corner. As he munched on his sandwich, he pulled out his laptop and searched for the yearbook records of Brooklyn based schools. He didn’t know for sure that Steve had even gone to high school here; he could have come to New York for college or work but something told him that Steve was a Brooklynite. Bucky spent the next few hours scouring school yearbook photos from the 60s. Sometimes, his gift would kick in and let him know when he was close to something – finding lost objects, when a presence was near and wanted to talk, when something bad was about to happen – but it wasn’t giving him any clues today. After a while, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Sure, he knew who Steve was now but he just wanted to find something that cemented him to the real world. He almost closed his laptop but decided to try one more set of photos.

And then he found him.

Steve’s picture was in a 1963 yearbook, when Steve would have been seventeen. He was smiling in the picture, his hair neatly combed in a side parting. Bucky felt a lump in his throat. Steve had been in the Book Club and the founder of the Art Society, well-liked by his peers and teachers. Bucky screencapped the image and closed his laptop, staring out of the window onto the busy New York street.

His empathy levels for the spirits he encountered had always been high; there was really no way he couldn’t be effected. He had managed to never make it effect him on deeply personal grounds. But Steve felt different.

And Bucky had no idea why.

*

He watered down his log for the Richmonds, suddenly hesitant to send them the details he had obtained. They just saw Steve as an unwanted presence in their home and God knew he’d done his best on that front to scare them. Bucky wanted to talk to Steve for a bit longer before he fully revealed him to the Richmonds. He owed Steve that much.

When he entered the apartment he could feel that Steve was there. He walked through to the kitchen and Steve was sitting at the table.

“I want you to help me,” Steve said. He was even clearer now; just a hint of transparency to him. Bucky had never spent this much time with a spirit before and he wondered if this happened to all of them or if Steve was just a particularly strong one.

Bucky sat down too. “That’s great.”

“I just want to...can I have a few more days? It’s been...nice to just talk to someone.”

“Of course you can,” Bucky said. “We have this place for another two weeks. You can take all the time you need.”

Steve visibly relaxed. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.” He looked around at the apartment sadly. “I may have died here but I was happy for the most part. It’s hard to let it go, to see other people enjoying it.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” Bucky said.

“I’ve watched everything change over the years. In here and from what I could see outside. It made me angry that everything was becoming different and I was staying the same.”

“Resentment isn’t a good feeling,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “I don’t feel so angry when you’re here. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” His blue eyes searched Bucky’s.

“I’ve always had this talent, since I was very little. It’s like I can tune into your feelings and understand them and then help you not to feel so bad. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

“My talent was drawing.”

“Yeah?”

They sat together in silence for a moment.

“Do you have anyone who might be waiting for you?” Bucky asked softly.

Steve shook his head. “I never knew who my parents were. I was in orphanages and foster care until I moved here. This was my home.”

No wonder Steve was stuck. Bucky’s heart ached for him because underneath the stubbornness and strength, there was a deep loneliness. He could at least take that away before Steve moved on.

“What say we discover the wonders of more cable TV channels than you could ever hope to watch?” Bucky said.

Steve looked up and a small smile quirked at his lips. “I like TV.”

Bucky got up and started to put on some coffee. “Me too,”

*

They spent the next couple of days like this, just sitting together on the Richmond’s couch and watching TV. It turned out that Steve had been watching a lot of TV for a long time; a lot of the time, there wasn’t much else for him to do. He liked reality shows.

“I get to see other people’s lives for a little while,” he said to Bucky. “Even if it isn’t entirely realistic.”

“What kind of shows did you watch when you were alive?” Bucky asked.

“Columbo, The Man From U.N.C.L.E, Get Smart, Maverick. Anything I could watch and sketch to.”

“How about movies?”

“The last movie I saw was Cool Hand Luke. The theatre was having a Paul Newman special and I...uh, kind of had a thing for him.” If Bucky didn’t know any better he could have sworn that Steve blushed.

“I don’t blame you,” Bucky said with a grin. “He was hot.”

Steve looked at him and smiled. “Kind of nice to be able to say something like that out loud.”

Bucky turned the TV down a little. “Tell me more about yourself.”

Steve blinked in surprise. “Like what?”

Bucky shrugged. “Your favorite colour, your favorite book, what subjects you liked at school, what food you liked.”

“I’m not all that interesting,” Steve said with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Yes, you are,” Bucky said.

Steve looked at him again, a little unsure, like he thought Bucky was humoring him. “You really want to know?”

Bucky turned the TV off, giving Steve his full attention. “Yes.”

Steve gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Alright.”

He started to talk, hesitantly at first but soon gaining confidence. Bucky smiled and laughed but let Steve talk, rarely interjecting. Most ghosts wanted a chance to be heard and Bucky wanted to dampen the loneliness that radiated from Steve. He was genuinely enjoying himself though. Steve was charming and witty, kind and self-deprecating. It wasn’t hard to listen to him and his stories.

“What about you?” Steve said, hugging his knees to his chest. “You’ve had your talent your whole life?”

“Yeah, since I was little.”

“That must have been so scary.”

Bucky ran his hand through his short brown hair. “I kind of had to learn not to be scared. Even if a spirit was angry, I tried my best to keep my cool and then just...talk. It was surprising how many of them were just glad that someone wanted to hear them. It made it easy to help.”

“But you’ve had bad experiences too?” Steve asked.

Bucky leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. Got hurt a few times. Scared my ma something awful when she saw the scratches and bruises.”

“Could you still help them?”

“Eventually. But not until they’d taken their anger out on me. It’s been mostly good though.”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “I feel bad for scaring the Richmonds. The first time I knocked into Mrs Richmond it was an accident but then I did it again.” He looked away in shame. “That was no way to behave. I had better manners in life.”

“Hey, you’re sorry. That’s the first step. I know you didn’t mean to do everything you did. You were hurt and angry,” Bucky said. He almost tried to nudge Steve with his foot but remembered that it would just go straight through him.

“You’ll apologize to them? For me?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled. “Sure I will.” He stifled a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll let you sleep,” Steve said and got to his feet. “Thank you, Bucky. This has been a great day.”

Bucky rose too. “It really has.”

Steve smiled shyly and gave an awkward little wave. He walked off towards the kitchen and faded away.

Bucky stood alone for a few moments before he headed to the bedroom to fill out his log for the day.

*

They followed the same routine after that and in a weird way, Bucky was enjoying himself. The more time he spent with Steve, the more he liked him.

“So this model comes into our life-drawing class and Bucky, I’m not kidding, he was beautiful, like in every way. If Michaelangelo’s David came to life, you know?” Steve was talking to him as Bucky made dinner, over a week into his stay at the Richmonds.

“Okay, I can picture it,” Bucky said, enjoying Steve’s anecdotes about his time in art college.

“We get to drawing and I’m looking at this guy’s perfect calves and sketching them and then I...” he stopped abruptly.

“Then you what?” Bucky asked.

Steve set his face into a serious pout. “You have to understand that I was appreciating this guy for his physique...in an artistic sense...” He gave Bucky a pointed look.

Bucky stopped chopping tomatoes and watched Steve. “What are you...oh my God,” he exclaimed and started to laugh. “You got a boner in art class drawing some dude’s calves!”

“Yes but it was an artistic boner.”

Bucky couldn’t stop laughing. “Artistic boner!”

Steve’s serious mask finally slipped and he started to laugh too. “Okay, now you. What’s the weirdest and most awkward boner you ever got?” He leaned against the kitchen work top. Bucky wasn’t sure how he didn’t just fall through it but then he guessed that if Steve wasn’t really thinking about it, he might be able to interact with things. He’d said that knocking into Mrs Richmond the first time had been an accident after all.

Bucky scooped the tomatoes into the pan. “Alright. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this...” He started to stir the sauce on the cooker. “I was in my room one Saturday morning and I was reading a movie magazine and there was this amazing topless picture of Paul Walker – he was an actor - from some film where he’s a diver and I was starting to...you know...when my ma calls up to me to come down because my grandparents are here. I spent ten minutes trying to make my boner disappear and it just _wouldn’t_ so I had to go downstairs.”

“What did you do?” Steve asked, his eyes bright with amusement.

“I put on my bathrobe and prayed that no-one would hug me too tightly. It was _horrible_.”

Steve laughed. It was a nice sound. “At least mine was in front of strangers.”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Bucky said but he turned to Steve and grinned. Steve looked happy.

Bucky plated his meal and sat down at the table. Steve remained standing where he was. For a brief moment, Bucky forgot why he was here. This had all seemed so real; like he and Steve were just room mates, friends sharing a story over dinner.

“Sorry,” Bucky said. “Is it insensitive of me to eat in front of you?”

“Don’t be a dolt. I miss food but not enough to want to smash plates over it.”

Bucky laughed and raised his glass to Steve. His phone started to ring and the smile slipped from his face when he saw it was the Richmonds. They probably wanted a full update. Bucky had been a little lax in his emails to them, sending one-liners on the situation, too wrapped up in how much he was enjoying himself. The call served as a slap to the face: This wasn’t his house, he was here to do a job. He glanced guiltily up at Steve.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked, his face full of concern.

Bucky forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s just Nat. I’ll call her back later.” He let it go through to the answerphone and wondered what the hell he was doing.

*

Later that evening, they both sat together at the picture window with the lights off, looking out at the New York skyline. Steve was resting his head in one hand, gazing dreamily at the setting sun.

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” he said softly.

Bucky smiled. “Me too.”

Steve met his eyes and something passed between them. Bucky felt it crash over him like a wave. He’d never felt anything like it.

“Me too,” he whispered again

*

It was a few days later when Bucky realized. He and Steve had been watching some terrible game show and were shouting out their own answers at the screen, laughing hysterically. Bucky wiped his eyes and looked at Steve. He wasn’t see-through any more. He was...he felt _alive_. Bucky could feel the life emanating from him and he was pink in the cheeks and his blue eyes shone. He was beautiful.

And Bucky _realized_.

He quickly got to his feet and started to head to the bathroom.

“What’s wrong, Barnes? Did you pee yourself?” Steve called after him, giggling.

“I’m not answering that,” Bucky shouted back and shut the door on Steve’s infectious laughter.

He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, a noise coming from him that was half-way between a laugh and a sob.

He had feelings for Steve.

Who was a ghost.

*

The more time he spent with Steve, the worse it got. He was existing in a strange little bubble that he didn’t want to burst. He didn’t answer the phone when the Richmond’s called and sent them quick emails instead. His freelance work fell to the wayside. Steve’s happiness was making Bucky happy and any time the thought that he had to do what he came here to do surfaced, he pushed it aside.

One morning, Bucky sighed after breakfast. Steve was sitting next to him, watching Bob Ross and wistfully looking at the TV. Bucky knew how much he wanted to be able to draw and paint again.

“What’s up?” Steve asked.

“I need to go home and do some work for a few hours.”

“Can’t you do it here?” Steve asked.

Bucky heaved himself up. “No, because a certain blond spectre keeps me distracted all day.”

Steve grinned his little lopsided smile that made Bucky’s heart beat a little faster. He was just about to say something when Bucky’s phone rang. The Richmonds. He ignored it and shoved it into his back pocket.

“I’ll be back before dinner. We can watch some I Love Lucy re-runs,” Bucky said, putting on his jacket.

Steve stood up and shoved his hands into his jeans. “Sounds good. I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Stevie,” Bucky said and frowned a little, unsure of why he said that.

Steve’s face softened. “I used to like that. People calling me Stevie. Only a couple ever did.”

Bucky was so confused. What was this? Why was this getting to him so much? He headed out of the apartment before he said something stupid.

*

On the way back to his apartment, his phone rang again but he ignored it. He would have to call the Richmonds at some point but he couldn’t do it today. He was too distracted. Maybe he had known Steve in another life? It was possible. Or maybe Steve was just everything Bucky had ever wanted in someone. His love life had been dead in the water for a few years; a lot of people got freaked out by his ability and he understood why. It just made for a bit of a lonely time. He sighed when he reached his apartment. He needed to sort his life out.

His phone rang again. He huffed and pulled it out of his back pocket. It was Natasha. And a missed call from her too.

“Hi Nat,” Bucky said.

“Bucky, what the hell is going on? I’ve had the Richmonds calling me all morning asking what the fuck is going on with you. You haven’t called them or given them a solid update for over a week and it’s making me look bad. You promised that you would never do this to me.” She was furious.

That’s all it took for Bucky’s mask of denial to crumble. He put a hand over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Nat. I’m so sorry.”

There was silence from the other end of the line. “Bucky, what’s going on?” Natasha’s voice was softer now.

Bucky slumped onto his couch. His apartment felt barren. “I have feelings for Steve.”

“Who’s Steve?” Natasha asked, confused. “Why would that -” She stopped. “Oh, Buck. No.”

Bucky let out a breath. “Yep.”

Natasha sighed. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like him before. It’s like...I don’t know. He just has this _pull_.”

“Bucky, he’s not alive. He’s a ghost haunting someone else’s apartment that _you_ were hired to clear. I don’t have to tell you how crazy this all is.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “I know. I’m just...I’ve fucked everything up.”

Natasha was quiet again but Bucky knew that she was doing her lawyer thing and deliberating over the situation. “Bucky, I’ve known you for a long time. You helped me out, remember? You’ve never let anything like this effect you and I’m sorry, but what the hell do you think can happen between you? You think the Richmonds are going to let you live in their guest room so you can have a relationship with a ghost?”

“I know, Nat. Believe me I know. I’m so confused.”

“He must really be something.”

Bucky smiled sadly. “He is. But I’ve been fooling myself. I need to get my head out of my ass.”

“I’ll do anything to help you, you know that.”

Bucky wiped at his eyes. He was tired and a million other things. “You already do everything to help me. I’ll call the Richmonds this evening. I’m sorry I put you through this.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Natasha asked.

Bucky stared off into the middle distance for a moment. “I don’t know.”

*

He couldn’t do any work after that. He swallowed thickly: he had to go back and talk to Steve.

When he unlocked the front door, he immediately felt Steve’s presence. He was waiting for Bucky in the kitchen, a big happy grin on his face.

“Changed your mind, huh?” His smile slipped when he saw the look on Bucky’s face. “Buck? What is it?”

Bucky gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Steve, we need to talk about why I’m here.”

The room immediately dipped a couple of degrees and Steve stepped back. “You said I could have some more time.”

Bucky carefully sat down at the table. “I know. We’ve been here for nearly two and a half weeks now. This isn’t my house. I’ve...I’ve been taking advantage of this situation.”

Steve frowned. “Because you like this apartment so much?”

Bucky met his eyes. Steve may as well be real and alive right now. He was _here_ , as solid in form as a real version, until he touched something and passed through it and then the illusion was shattered. He only ever moved things when he was upset.

“No, not because I like the apartment so much,” Bucky said quietly.

Bucky could feel fear and resentment emanating from Steve. “I don’t want to go. You can’t make me.”

“I would never make you. It’s your decision. But you can’t stay here and haunt this place forever. You’ll be unhappy and those bad feelings will twist you into something I know you aren’t.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Steve said and pressure started to build in Bucky’s head again. “I thought we were friends.”

Bucky stood up, trying to concentrate and work on calming Steve down. “We are. Steve, I’ve had such a great time with you but I’ve been selfish -”

But Steve was already too far gone. “It’s not fair! I didn’t want to die! I didn’t want to be stuck here and now you’re all making me...” He was breathing (not breathing) heavily, his face a tight knot of hurt.

Bucky took a step toward him. “Steve, please...”

“LEAVE ME ALONE,” Steve screamed and there was a flash as all of the lights in the kitchen and living room shone brightly for a second and then blew simultaneously.

Bucky threw himself to the floor and covered his head as glass rained down on him. He stayed curled on the kitchen floor for a moment before raising his head. Steve was gone.

Bucky got unsteadily to his feet and looked at the mess around him. He could feel tears prickling at his eyes.

“Steve?” he called out. “Steve, I’m sorry. Please come back.”

The silence of the apartment wrapped around him like a thick blanket. He carefully stepped around the shattered light bulbs and rooted around in the kitchen until he found a dustpan and started to tidy. There was a hot lump in his throat and he ignored it until the glass was cleared. He walked through to the guest bedroom and finally sat down on the bed, letting the tears come.

*

“I owe you both an apology,” Bucky said into the phone that evening. He had finally called the Richmonds back.

“Mr Barnes, we do not appreciate this _at all_ ,” Mr Richmond said angrily. “We trusted you with our home to get this job done and you’ve avoided our calls and God knows what else.”

“I’m very sorry,” Bucky said, his head dipping. “My judgement has been...skewed a little over this job but it’s no excuse. I’ve been very unprofessional and I apologize.”

There was silence at the other end. Then Mrs Richmond finally spoke.

“Mr Barnes, we just want our home back.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “The presence in your home was a young man called Steve Rogers. He died here alone in 1971 and he’s having trouble moving on. I’ve gotten to know him and he’s...he’s just confused. He’s really very nice. I upset him today without meaning to. I don’t know when he’ll be back. I’m emailing you a yearbook picture of him right now. He was only nine years older than this photo when he died.”

Bucky waited through another silence and then heard Mrs Richmond make a noise.

“He was so young,” she said sadly. “Oh, John.”

“Can you still help us, Mr Barnes?” Mr Richmond sounded calmer.

“I think so. If you can still trust me to.”

“Please help him,” Mrs Richmond said. “I didn’t think...about him having been a person. It’s heartbreaking.”

Bucky closed his eyes. “I may need to ask you for some more time.”

There was some muffled talking from the other end.

“Take as long as you need,” Mr Richmond said.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again.”

“Apology accepted. Let’s just do what we can from now on.”

They said their goodbyes and Bucky walked through into the dark kitchen. He would buy new bulbs and replace all the lighting tomorrow. He stood for a moment trying to reach Steve but he couldn’t sense him at all.

“Steve?” Bucky said into the darkness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I’ve been selfish and I’ve screwed everything up. I just want to do what’s right. I just...” He was having trouble putting his feelings into words. “I care for you. A lot.”

He waited in the darkness but Steve didn’t come back.

*

The next morning, the apartment was still empty of Steve’s presence. Bucky tried to push away the knot of dread that he caused more harm that he’d intended but it followed him out when he went to the hardware store to replace all the lights. It was a dull overcast day.

He bought all the bulbs and spent at least an hour replacing everything in the kitchen and living room. He made himself a late breakfast and stared into his coffee cup.

“Steve?” Bucky called out softly.

Nothing.

Bucky got up and went into the living room. He curled up on the couch closed his eyes.

*

When he woke up, it was dark outside.

And Steve was there.

Bucky sat up and scanned the darkness. He was standing in the kitchen doorway.

“I’m sorry I broke all of the lights,” Steve said. His voice was heavy and sad. He wasn’t angry any more.

“It’s alright,” Bucky said softly.

Steve walked into the living room and sat on the couch next to Bucky, his arms wrapped around himself.

“I’m so scared, Buck,” Steve whispered.

“Oh Stevie. You don’t have to be,” Bucky said and tears spilled down his cheeks. “I need to tell you something. I...I have feelings for you.”

He didn’t need to see Steve’s face in the dark. He could feel his reaction: Surprised and happy and sad all at the same time. “You...you do?”

Bucky nodded. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody before.”

“I have feelings for you too,” Steve whispered. “It isn’t fair.”

Bucky knew what he meant. Why did they have to meet like this? Sometimes the universe could be a complete asshole.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

They sat together for a few moments.

“I’m ready to go,” Steve said. “I’ve been selfish too. You made me feel like I was alive again and I didn’t want to give that up. But you were right; I can’t stay here.”

Bucky nodded.

“Will it hurt?” Steve asked, his voice small.

“No, it won’t hurt,” Bucky said gently. “The absolute opposite.”

Steve leaned back against the couch. “I never had the chance to fall in love when I was alive. Never even kissed anyone.” He glanced at Bucky. “Things never turn out quite how you’d like them to, huh?”

“No,” Bucky said sadly. “Steve, you’re...amazing.”

Steve smiled. Even in the darkness, he was beautiful. “So are you.” His smile faded. “So, what do I have to do?”

Bucky stood up. He could feel that Steve was ready and this was it. This was what he could do to help him. This was his gift.

“Give me your hands,” Bucky said softly.

Steve looked confused but stood in front of Bucky and held out his hands. Bucky took them. They were touching.

Steve gasped. “How are we...”

Bucky smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I only know I can do it when someone needs to move on.”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s hands and he was warm. “It’s been so long since I...” He sniffed and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “It feels so good.”

Bucky brought his hand to Steve’s face and stroked his cheek. “I’m so glad I got to meet you.”

Steve closed his eyes and leaned into Bucky’s touch. “Me too,” he whispered.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asked.

“Please,”

They moved closer and kissed softly and Bucky could feel how happy Steve was in that moment. He was scared and sad too but the happiness outweighed everything else.

When they pulled away, it was starting to get lighter around them.

“What’s happening?” Steve asked.

“You’re going,” Bucky said. “Its alright. I’m right here.”

Steve closed his eyes. “It feels right.”

Bucky smiled. “I told you you’d be okay.”

Steve opened his eyes and grinned, still crying. “Okay, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve grabbed him in a tight hug, “Thank you, Bucky.”

The light was getting brighter and although it didn’t hurt, Bucky closed his eyes against it.

“We’ll see each other again,” he whispered into Steve’s shoulder. “I promise.”

Steve turned his face up to Bucky’s and they kissed until they were completely enveloped in the light.

“Goodbye Steve,” Bucky said.

And then Steve was gone.

*

The Richmonds came home two days later. Bucky had cleaned and tidied and replaced the food he had used but he couldn’t stay there or go back. It hurt too much. He knew he would be okay but at the moment, he felt empty.

He met the Richmonds in the same coffee shop.

Mrs Richmond stood up and surprised Bucky by giving him a hug, “Did you help him? The apartment feels completely different. Warm.”

“I helped him,” Bucky said. “Thank you for being so understanding. I never let things get too personal but...well.” He sighed.

“We appreciate how hard it must be for you. I can’t even begin to understand how you cope with your...talent,” Mr Richmond said.

“It is what it is,” Bucky said.

Mr Richmond handed Bucky an envelope. “I hope a cheque is okay. Thank you again.”

Bucky almost felt bad taking their money but they were already on their way out. Mrs Richmond turned and gave Bucky one last smile before they headed off down the street.

He got himself a coffee and sat near the window, people watching. After twenty minutes, his phone blooped.

NAT: How are you?

BUCKY: Been better but I’ll be fine.

NAT: Only you could fall in love with a ghost.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

NAT: I’m sorry, BB.

BUCKY: It’s alright. He’s happy.

Bucky put his phone down and rested his head on his hand, watching the world move around him.

*

Life went on as usual for Bucky. He worked, he helped people, living and dead. He thought about Steve a lot.

Sometimes when he was at home, he would feel the air around him shift a little and was overcome briefly by a sensation of stubbornness and he could almost see bright blue eyes and a warm grin at the edge of his vision, just for a few seconds. It always made him smile.

He would see Steve again. One day.

 

 


End file.
